Chapter 59#
“Devoted” Movie King (13)#
Ever since Lu Yi had given him that dossier on He Xiao before, Kong Si had become more cautious of He Xiao in his heart. He didn’t care what the other party’s purpose was or why he wanted to get close to him. Since he was full of lies from the very start, he was definitely not well-intentioned without a doubt.
Even if the other party was merely ill-intentioned and had not yet done anything to harm him or those around him, Kong Si only had his manager pay more attention. If the other party made a move, he would immediately retaliate with double the force.
If the other party tried to step on him with various press releases, he would send out double the amount to step back on him. If the other party tried to smear him and drag down his popularity, then he would definitely help create even bigger scandals for the other party to gain fame.
Kong Si wasn’t the type to actively harm others, but he wasn’t a saint either; he couldn’t let someone step on him and still think about the other party’s well-being, even kindly offering his other foot for them to step on.
I won’t offend unless I’m offended. If someone slaps him once, he’ll definitely slap back twice.
But to his surprise, even when he used measures like blocking or ignoring—all clear signs that he didn’t like the other party—He Xiao kept showing him goodwill time and again. In the end, even Kong Si’s manager said, “I feel like he doesn’t have any bad intentions. You two were classmates, so if you worked together, it would definitely be better.”
Many celebrities have senior or junior fellow apprentices. No matter the field, being friendly and having good interpersonal skills makes one popular.
Especially in the entertainment industry, even if someone does something wrong, if all the stars stand up and speak well of that person, people will think the exposed news must be fake.
Conversely, if someone hasn’t done anything but everyone says they’re bad, the public is more inclined to believe the majority.
The social dynamics of adults in society are even more apparent in the entertainment industry.
A talented but ill-tempered person in a company can still get by, but public figures who guide opinions must be positive moral models.
The public won’t like a celebrity with too much negativity. If Kong Si appeared disrespectful to seniors or impolite, he would definitely get criticized.
Kong Si said, “Even if he doesn’t have any major ill intentions, isn’t it strange to constantly show goodwill just because of a classmate relationship? We’re not from the same company, and I’m not some big backer. There’s nothing to gain.”
If he were wealthy, that would be one thing—the kind of rich second-generation, even if they had a terrible temper and bad reputation, people would still flock to them, lowering themselves to please.
One pays money, the other pays dignity or even their body. It’s a simple transactional relationship, quite fair if both parties are willing.
But it was different with him and He Xiao. Even if Kong Si was currently more popular, He Xiao had debuted years earlier, making him Kong Si’s senior. He didn’t have a bad reputation either. If you compare awards, achievements, and fan numbers, he could easily outmatch Kong Si, a newcomer.
Unless someone lacked foresight and relied on a backer to throw their weight around, generally juniors respect seniors.
Sometimes, even if a senior throws a tantrum, fans might say it’s guidance with good intentions. But He Xiao was nothing like that; he kept trying to extend an olive branch, but after being rejected, he still shamelessly approached Kong Si.
Strange, definitely strange.
The manager advised Kong Si, “I also think it’s a bit off, but he hasn’t done anything to wrong you, has he? Not only that, but he actively helps promote you and even praises you in programs when mentioning you.”
The manager might as well not have spoken, because it just annoyed Kong Si: “Who cares about his so-called promotion? And you—I told you not to pay attention to him, but you reposted his promotional post on Weibo, making it seem like he and I have a good relationship.”
He actually hated this kind of veiled pressure. He wasn’t being oversensitive; he was sure He Xiao was using people around him to indirectly pressure him.
This situation was no different from a girl who doesn’t like a guy and explicitly rejects him, but the guy wins over her friends to win her over.
If the girl is moved by his devotion, fine. But if she doesn’t like him, people around her will say she’s ungrateful—that she missed out on such a devoted guy, and it’s her fault.
Why should she be treated like that just for not liking someone? He hadn’t actively attacked He Xiao, nor had he ever snatched any of the other’s resources.
More accurately, he hadn’t snatched anyone’s resources, because the dramas he filmed were tailor-made for him by Lu Yi’s investment.
The variety shows he later participated in were mostly as a guest. His company and He Xiao’s weren’t the same, and He Xiao’s inexplicable flattery had already caused him trouble.
He stated his stance very seriously: “Remember, you’re my manager, not He Xiao’s. Even if you’re my manager, you should consult me before doing anything. Next time something involves He Xiao, don’t cooperate without my permission.”
Worried that his usual easygoing demeanor might make the manager disregard his words, he stressed firmly: “If there’s another instance of acting on your own without permission, you can resign and leave.”
He wasn’t too concerned about the manager leaking his scandals after leaving. As long as the other party wanted to stay in the industry, they had to have professional ethics.
And if they divulged private information, he could definitely sue them into bankruptcy. Since Lu Yi became the chairman of Starlight Media, he placed great importance on legal matters. The company had a dedicated legal department handling various infringement issues involving the company and its artists.
Kong Si used to have lawyer friends, but his family was only middle class, so he wasn’t used to the lifestyle of dragging lawyers into everything.
But living together with Lu Yi for a long time, he inevitably absorbed his partner’s habits. When encountering problems, he also started saying, “Get my lawyer.”
To be honest, whenever trouble arose, bringing in a team of lawyers and watching the other party cower in fear felt really good.
Kong Si’s manager was competent, somewhat ambitious, and dreamed of turning Kong Si into a movie king through his efforts. But ambition aside, he didn’t intend to control Kong Si’s life, since Kong Si was his employer, not an artist assigned to him by the company.
Compared to others, Kong Si had a very good temper. He was generous with salary and vacation time, and the manager liked this job: “I understand. I’ll pay attention to that in the future.”
He had only suggested things he thought were good for Kong Si. Since Kong Si disliked He Xiao so much, then they wouldn’t interact. The manager was happy to go along with whatever when it didn’t affect his own interests. But once his interests were involved, he immediately backed down, tossing any sympathy for He Xiao to the wind.
He Xiao didn’t know that in just a few words of conversation, he had lost a strong ally. Even if he knew, there wasn’t much he could do. Sometimes, matters of emotion come down to chemistry, not logic.
If mere effort and dedication could win hearts, there wouldn’t be so many lovesick men and women in the world.
While Kong Si and his manager were talking, their subject, He Xiao, was also chatting with his own manager.
Because their working relationship was different, He Xiao’s manager, Zhao Qian, was less gentle and tactful. He didn’t advise; he scolded directly: “What’s wrong with you lately? Constantly bringing up that Kong Si and even reposting his promotions.”
Artists’ social media accounts like Weibo were usually held by the company’s team. Of course, artists could post themselves, but when it came to commercial collaborations, they absolutely couldn’t post arbitrarily.
Riding on someone else’s popularity was fine, but voluntarily generating buzz for others was not. Such promotional work was paid for—they had to negotiate amounts. He Xiao had reposted Kong Si’s new drama without telling him, which really angered Zhao Qian.
“Do you realize how much loss your recklessness has caused the company? From now on, your account will be managed by the company.”
He Xiao asked, “Is this the company’s decision or yours?”
Zhao Qian said with a displeased expression, “You’re the artist I manage. If you don’t perform well, do you think I’ll fare any better?”
He sighed and asked bluntly, “Tell me honestly, over a month ago, you went out saying you were meeting a friend. Who exactly was that friend?”
He had more artists under him than just He Xiao, but He Xiao was the one earning him the most money and had the most potential to grow.
A manager’s job depended on commission. He counted on He Xiao as his cash cow, so naturally he didn’t want his career affected by external factors.
But He Xiao didn’t want to talk about it: “I already said it was a friend. Brother Zhao, I’ve never asked about what friends you make, whether your wife is pretty, or how many grades your kids are in. I hope you can be understanding and give me some leeway.”
Zhao Qian replied, “I’m the manager. My job is to help artists get suitable resources and pick the right scripts. As an actor, your job isn’t just acting. I hope you understand that ordinary people’s relationships or marriages—even friendships—can affect your image. And your image is one of the most valuable assets you have as an artist.”
More precisely, He Xiao was an idol, not just an actor. His persona couldn’t break. Romantic relationships would cause a huge shock to his fan base. And poor choice of friends would have some impact too.
He didn’t want his artist to appear as someone who chases after others. If it were a pretty female star, it might be fine—they could spin He Xiao as devoted. But chasing after a male star would definitely harm He Xiao’s public opinion.
He Xiao was silent for a long time, then said, “I understand. I’ll be careful.”
After their conversation, He Xiao and Kong Si appeared together on a variety show where they were both guests.
He Xiao had said he would be careful, but this time on the show, he couldn’t help showing goodwill toward Kong Si.
Kong Si didn’t really want to show their discord in front of the audience, but he knew Lu Yi would watch the show. He didn’t want Lu Yi to misunderstand, nor did he want to give He Xiao any hope, so he remained cold throughout.
The variety show was a long-running one, no longer at its peak but still with many fans. Shortly after the episode aired, the combination of their names—Yu Si and He Xiao—climbed the trending list.
However, unlike most other celebrities where clicking in would reveal mutual praise—like someone attending a show and another praising how excellent they were—this time was different.
When users clicked in, they saw various posts exposing their discord, along with a video.
The video contained edited footage showing Kong Si’s disrespect toward his senior. The camera captured Kong Si’s impatience when looking at He Xiao.
Soon, another topic appeared on the trending list: Yu Si acting like a diva.
This topic was even more eye-catching, and its popularity surged, even surpassing the earlier one.
Kong Si’s manager and assistant were constantly monitoring trending topics on major sites, especially platforms like Weibo. Exaggeratedly speaking, they were watching every second.
After the topic appeared, its popularity began to climb rapidly. Based on industry insight, the speed of growth was a bit too fast.
The facts were clear—it must have been done by He Xiao’s side.
Had He Xiao, after months of flattery, finally slipped up and revealed his true colors?
Kong Si’s manager thought so while scrolling through the comments on both sides’ Weibo, promptly arranging for bots to control the narrative or using bigger hot topics to suppress the adverse publicity about their artist.
Just then, He Xiao, who was being sympathized with by many, posted on Weibo.